


Hollow Point Heart

by dallystrings



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Brief Mentions of Guns/Weapons, Daddy Issues, M/M, Past Abuse, Pining, Road Trips, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14195409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dallystrings/pseuds/dallystrings
Summary: “Is it absolutely horrible,” Hux sighed guiltily, “To secretly wish he would just die within the next week before they can get the new will written up?”Phasma sat up a little straighter, her eyes discreetly flicking from side to side.“What if I told you I know someone?”-or-Brendol has plans to remove Hux from his will. Kylo Ren is hired to make sure that won't happen.





	1. Chapter 1

The cursor of the computer blinked slowly, audible as it paired with the sound of a beating heart. Twitching fingers rested over the keys, ghosting over each vowel in an attempt to start a simple greeting. Shaking hands typed several words, rapidly hitting the backspace key before a flushed face was thrust into the clammy palms and cradled awkwardly. 

It was a simple e-mail, Hux told himself. Just a few brief words of introduction, and then hit the send button. Still, the blank page blinked innocently back at him, taunting him for his sudden lack of effortless prose. The office chair slammed back from the computer and he wandered around the small room to sort his thoughts.

Before Hux could regain his train of thought, an abrupt knock on his door sent a chill down his spine. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide and anxious as he straightened out his tie. Calling out for whoever it was to come in, he leaned casually against the desk and scooped up the nearest folder to seem as though he had previously been deep in professional thought instead of personal.

“Sir,” his secretary squeaked, “Y-You have a personal call on line three,”

Hux huffed, rolling his eyes as he pretended to be intensely focused on the sheet of paper in front of him. He read the exact expense report several times to the point of almost knowing the numbers by heart, but he still acted as if it was his first time ingesting the information before him.

“Mitaka,” Hux frowned, “I told you that I refuse to accept any personal callers during work hours. It sets a dangerous precedent, and I’m not hypocrite,” 

The squirrely man shifted, visibly uncomfortable where he stood. Hux expected that to be the end of it, but still he lingered. It was almost as if he was trying to muster up the courage to speak again, but Hux merely remained focused on the leaflets he rifled through before him. 

“Sir,” Mitaka coughed, “I understand that normally, and I usually would immediately explain the same thing to the caller, but this time I just thought I should check in-”

“I do not and have never accepted personal calls at work,” Hux snapped, “What made you think this situation was an exception?”

Mitaka once again moved the weight from one of his feet to the other. He glanced behind his shoulder, checking once up and down the hall outside of Hux’s office to see if anyone was around. Had the two of them not gone to school together, Hux might have fired him over the distraction.

Hux pushed himself off of the desk, mouth dropping open to scold Mitaka. If there were to be distractions during his time in the office, there were also to be consequences. As he crossed the room, Mitaka looked directly into his eyes and shook his head softly. 

“It’s your f-father,” Mitaka explained quickly, “It sounded urgent,” 

Hux stopped in his tracks, eyes wide and unblinking. Mitaka visibly swallowed, and took a step backwards so that he stood in the doorway. Reaching out for the handle of the door, he offered a curt nod before heading back to his desk.

“Line three,” Mitaka reminded him gently, practically tripping over himself to get out. 

Hux let out a breath of anguish and anxiety, head falling back into his hands. The red light of his phone blinked ominously, and Hux practically ran the three steps back to his desk to grab it. His finger lingered over the button for half a second before he pressed it.

“Hello,” Hux answered, trying desperately to keep his voice as level as possible.

“Armitage,” his father returned gruffly, “Took you long enough,” 

Hux squeezed his eyes closed. He could have picked up halfway through the first ring, and Brendol Hux would still have something to complain about. Any joy he had felt in the last week swept out of his body like a floodgate opened. 

“I’m at work,” Hux reminded him calmly. 

“Right,” his father chuckled, “That time killer you call a job,”

Glancing around the office, Hux wondered how much more it would take until his father acknowledged his professional progress. Sure, he admitted, it wasn’t like he built a multi billion dollar company from scratch like his father had, but he was doing well enough where he was. 

“Middle management is no career,” Brendol’s voice shattered his thoughts, and he nodded obediently like the man stood before him watching. 

“I’m getting there,” Hux offered, “Slowly but surely,”

A bitter laugh came from the receiver, and it sent chills throughout Hux’s body. It was the same noise he heard so many times as a child. Hux knew it as the tell tale sign of his father needing to relieve some stress. Though they lived thousands of miles apart, Hux still checked over his shoulder. 

“When I was your age, I was light years ahead of you professionally,” Brendol snapped, “And personally! A wife, a kid, a nice house,” 

Hux held his tongue, desperately wanting to add the missing pieces of the man’s perfect puzzle: a mistress and bastard child. Instead, he examined his nails and tried to remain level headed so he would be able to get back to work after the call.

“Well, I better get back on track,” his father grunted, “I didn’t call just to remind you what a failure you’ve been, Armitage,”

Hux winced as the man laughed, coughing every so often. From the other end of the phone he could practically smell the cigar smoke that undoubtedly clouded whatever room Brendol called from. He only wondered when the chain smoking would finally take the effect Hux had desired since his childhood, ridding him of the man for good. 

“Why did you call, Father?” Hux cleared his throat, nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I would have invited you down to Georgia to talk about it, man to man,” Brendol clarified, “But I know how difficult it must be to get a few days off of all that work you must do for a printing company,”

Laughter filled the other line once more, like Brendol had performed an elaborate stand up bit. Hux felt redness spread to his cheeks, and he ducked his head down in embarrassment. Rationally, he knew he would never be good enough for the man with impossible standards. Irrationally, he wanted to be. 

“Right,” Hux agreed through gritted teeth, “What is it you’d like to discuss?”

“The will,” Brendol answered casually.

“Your will?” Hux clarified quizzically, feeling a pit form in his gut.

Brendol scoffed, shifting loudly in his seat. Hux could just picture him, a sad old man with a revolting cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth and a glass of scotch in his free hand before the clock tolled noon. It turned his stomach.

“Well, I don’t suppose yours really matters, Armitage,” Brendol quipped, “You have no property to divide, everything you call yours is just a rental. What, are you leaving your pathetic bank account to that dastardly cat?”

Hux bit his tongue to keep quiet. Of course he was renting, he didn’t know if this would be his job for the rest of his life. It certainly wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it paid the bills with significant surplus. He did not say this to Brendol.

“Your will,” he tried to maintain the course of the conversation, “What about it?”

“Right,” Brendol coughed, “Well, I’m taking you out of it,”

The words came with such nonchalance that Hux imagined he had not heard them correctly for half a second. He blinked in utter disbelief, trying to wrap his head around the words. 

Over a decade prior, extensive meetings took place in regards to the will. It took weeks to split everything in a way that Brendol deemed fair and just. Hux changed the entire course of his life because his father wanted him to have a background in business in case he had to take over. 

He had lived the last ten years of his life by the contents of that will, knowing that he would be safe and secure to pursue the life he wanted as soon as his father died. 

Hux looked around the little office, realizing that this was what the entirety of his sad excuse of a life culminated to. He was just a bitter man who took his all consuming daddy issues out on the men and women that worked for him. 

For years, Hux had convinced himself that emanating the aura of his father would be worth it. Keep up appearances, and no one would know how distraught he was inside. He would manage his father’s company, as it would be left to him, just long enough to prove that he could handle the family business. Then, he would sell the company to the highest bidder and run away, never looking back. 

Brendol ripped that away from him in a casual line over the phone. 

“Taking me out,” Hux repeated, “What- how is that… out? Completely?”

If they had been face to face, Brendol would have shrugged and changed the subject. Hux felt his heartbeat rise into his throat, and wondered what possible explanation the man could have for removing his only child from his will. 

“I’m leaving it all to Maratelle,” Brendol explained, the unspoken words clear between them. 

Hux staggered backwards, his thighs hitting the desk. Neatly stacked folders tipped over, spilling onto the carpeted floor. Looking down, the patterns swirled together as the room began to spin.

It was not a surprise. Maratelle hated Hux from the second she was made aware of his existence. The bastard child lived just down the hall, a bright red reminder of the woman who worked in her kitchen that bore her husband’s only son. 

“Father,” Hux choked out, “The will was debated over for weeks, she was there, she agreed on everything that was decided,”

“Oh, you know Maratelle,” Brendol maintained, “She can be difficult,”

Difficult. Hux’s bottom lip shook, a thousand words threatening to spill from his mouth. There was nothing he could do, he knew that. Once Maratelle got her claws in, there was no way to change his father’s mind. 

It was how his father got away with so much. He slept with other women, he traveled almost constantly for work, and he spoke to his wife so disrespectfully that she locked herself away at least once a week. But, Brendol had money. And Brendol gave Maratelle that money in whatever perverted mutual agreement they held. 

“It’s final then?” Hux asked bluntly.

“Final only in decision,” his father sounded bored of the conversation at this point, “I’ll meet with the lawyer either next week or the week after to rewrite the damn thing,”

For a shining second, Hux wondered if he had time to change his father’s mind. He could hop on a plane, show up at his door and beg Maratelle to give him just a sliver of the inheritance when it came time. Brendol was old, a heavy smoker and drinker, already weak under the stress of the company. All that he needed was a few hundred thousand and he could support himself for decades. It was nothing compared to the amount as a whole.

“Armitage,” Brendol broke his thoughts, “You’re a man now. Time to look out for yourself,”

Before Hux could reply, the line went dead. Typical of his father to hang up without a proper goodbye, right after throwing everything in his life out of whack. After thirty seconds, the line started to beep. The phone was secured back in place with a loud thud.

Hux staggered towards the chair, collapsing into it and just barely landing properly. Another inch and he would have been on the floor, which would have been the last straw. 

Tears welled in his eyes, dripping from his pale eyelashes to the splayed out papers before him. Hux yanked on his hair, trying to understand why his father was so intent on reducing him to a sniveling mess. No one could ever get under his skin like that, could make him feel so helpless and childlike. 

Hux’s head raised to stare at the blank computer screen once again. His hand reached out, touching the e-mail address with a pathetic smile. Every plan he had made, shattered by the phone call his father would not think twice about. 

Two minutes into his cry, Hux took a deep breath. He wiped the tears from his cheeks that had fallen, and dabbed his face with the handkerchief he kept in his suit pocket. The ice water on his desk was gulped down swiftly, and slowly but surely his blush faded. 

Hux worked the rest of the day without another break. His employees feared him more than usual, and he could only assume Mitaka spread the word about the only personal phone call Hux allowed in his four years as Executive Vice President. 

An employee rushed in five minutes late to a routine staff meeting, and Hux lectured her on time mismanagement and gross incompetence in front of the entire conference room for two and a half minutes before he reigned himself in. 

Staring out at the terrified faces, he felt closer to his father than he ever had before. 

“I’m…” his voice trailed off, the apology stuck in my throat.

The woman tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, obviously trying to hold back tears. Hux wanted to explain to them all that it wasn’t his fault, that it’s the way he was raised, that every single time he thought he was getting better Brendol would call and everything would fall apart again.

Who was he to place the blame on someone else?

Hux lived over three decades as a reincarnate of the beast he called a father. What had he done to change that? 

Wide eyes watched him tentatively, waiting for his next snap. Hux felt like the monster of a fairytale, a wicked dragon spitting fire at anyone who came near. 

Would it be so hard to change? Was the anger embedded into his genetic code? 

“Punctuality is mandatory,” Hux settled on finally. 

The tension did not leave the office for the remainder of the day. Hux typed out e-mail after e-mail, trying to find a way to apologize for his actions. None of them were sent. Somehow, he could not force himself to take full responsibility. 

He was even more like his father in that way. 

Everyone left the office bit by bit, until Hux was left entirely alone. As soon as he heard the elevator doors close carrying Mitaka home, he lost his resolve. He shouted into the phone receiver, consumed in a blind rage at the actions of his father.

Within ten minutes, he felt strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. He looked up weakly, his eyes meeting the calming blue of his best friend’s. She rubbed his back gently, urging him to stand up and get his coat on.

“Hi, Phasma,” Hux sniveled pathetically.

“Come on, Huxy,” she sighed, “Let’s get you a drink,”

Phasma led him from the room, her broad frame supporting the slightly shorter man as they trekked across the office. The whitish blonde of her hair reflected brightly under the fluorescent lights, like a beacon calling out to him.

Hux followed wordlessly, just trying to make it from one moment to the next without crumpling all over again. Phasma brushed his red hair back with her long fingers, trying to piece her best friend together in case they bumped into anyone familiar. 

Hux did not thank her aloud.

Phasma smiled knowingly, fully aware of his appreciation.

They sat at a pub down the street together, crowded into a two person booth. Phasma joked about the two being stuffed like sausages into a link, and Hux laughed aloud at their legs constantly bumping into one another. 

“Fries?” Phasma asked excitedly, eyes and mouth wide like a child.

“Horrible influence,” Hux shook his head, sipping his beer lightly. 

“We’ll have a plate of the loaded fries, please,” Phasma belted out to the waiter cheerily, “Thank you!”

Hux snickered at her positivity, unaware of how she kept it up. The stories Phasma told him about work seemed like something out of a dramatic cop show, not real life. But Phasma loved her police work, always sharing some crazy new story about the latest criminal she encountered.

Perhaps, it wasn’t so surprising. Hux had known Phasma since high school, and kept in touch with her when she joined the army and he went to business school. They had remained two peas in a pod all of these years, with Phasma being the only person to know just how terribly Hux’s father treated him.

“Do you think he’ll really go through with it then?” Phasma asked bluntly.

Hux sighed, offering a weak nod. His father was not the type to make vacant threats, and he certainly had the scars along his body to prove it. Subconsciously, Hux scratched at the mark along the inside of his forearm. 

Phasma smacked his hand away, looking at him with an air of concern. Hux waved her off, tugging down the sleeve of his dress shirt a little farther until it rested at the base of his hand. 

“I hate him,” Hux muttered angrily.

“You don’t,” Phasma reminded him softly.

They sat in silence for a moment. Phasma stared at him with knowing eyes, having been through this conversation a dozen times. Hux heaved out a sigh, finishing off his beer and placing the glass on the edge of the table.

“I know,” he grunted finally. 

As much as his father ruined his life, Hux knew he would never truly hate him. It was impossible for him to. While he was alive, there was something in Hux that craved the approval he was fully aware he would never receive.

Phasma used to joke that he was Charlie Brown, and positive affirmation from his father was the football. Brendol, of course, played Lucy in the scenario. 

The waiter brought the heaping plate of fries, and Hux looked at Phasma like she had given him the meaning of life. The two dug in, half laughing and half crying over what a mess Hux’s home life was. Phasma told him her latest stories of junkies and thieves, and Hux reveled in what felt like a typical night for just a little while. 

“He really is such an asshole,” Phasma scoffed, “Even his name! Brendol. What kind of name is that?”

“Worse than Armitage?” Hux asked, and they both burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Nothing could be worse than Armitage,” she agreed heartily.

Hux rolled his eyes, sliding a jalapeno off of his fry. For years, Phasma used to slip them into his food when he wouldn’t realize. It always made her laugh how worked up he would get over the pepper, tears streaming down his face as he gulped down full glasses of milk. 

If anything made him soft, it was the friendship he had with the woman. Phasma knew when he was acting out, and called him out appropriately. Hux could be vulnerable without seeming weak, something he had never experienced anywhere else in his life. 

“To think,” he sighed sadly, “I’ve stayed in the closet all this time to ensure my inheritance… all for nothing,”

Phasma frowned, reaching across the table to pat his hand sympathetically. In the next second she was knocking back a shot and shoving a handful of fries in her mouth. Hux laughed despite the tears that prickled his eyes.

“Let’s be honest,” Phasma joked gently, “Coming out of the closet wouldn’t automatically make you romantically competent with men,”

“You would know,” Hux muttered teasingly, earning him a look from the other.

“Watch it,” she warned, grin wide on her face. 

Hux told her about all of the things he wished he had done, and had planned on doing in the future. Phasma told him there was still time. Hux pretended to believe her. 

Once upon a time, Hux wanted to be a writer. He studied poetry at school, wrote extensive fiction works holed up in his dorm room. The call to take over his father’s company was strong rationally, but his heart could never find itself fully on board.

Instead, he stayed up all hours of the night thinking of different ways to describe the eyes of the boy who worked at the sandwich counter. Hux kept his writing to himself, never once so much as insinuating to his father that he enjoyed literature. 

It was long forgotten. Hux had not written anything that didn’t pertain to work in almost the entire time he had been with his company, almost ten years. Instead, he promised himself that when he had the freedom of living without his father’s expectations, he would do what he loved.

Now, Hux wondered if he would escape those expectations even in death.

“I knew Brendol was an asshole,” Phasma said suddenly, “I just didn’t think he was, like, ‘cut my son out of the will over a five minute phone call’ level of asshole,” 

“His bastard son,” Hux pointed out with a wink.

“Bastard son,” Phasma nodded faux-solemnly.

“It makes a difference,” he shrugged.

Phasma laughed, rolling her eyes. Her parents had married straight out of high school, and had her within a year. They retired to Florida six months prior and called her four to six times a week depending on when she worked. 

Hux knew she didn’t really understand, but she tried. 

“I know he’s never wanted me, loved me,” Hux’s voice caught in his throat and he coughed to pass it off.

Phasma looked understanding, trying to convey her support in a smile and a squeeze of his arm. Hux was sick of needing to be looked after because of how small his father made him feel. For once, he wanted to feel in control and powerful.

“Dick move though,” he finished with a shrug.

They talked about what he would have done with the money. Hux imagined running the business better than his father had in decades, building it up to its peak just to sell it to whatever bidder offered him enough money to go back to school and pursue a career in writing. 

It would be nice, he mused, to publish shitty poetry with his face right on the inside sleeve of the book without having to worry about his father calling him in a fit of rage. 

“Is it absolutely horrible,” Hux sighed guiltily, “To secretly wish he would just die within the next week before they can get the new will written up?”

Phasma sat up a little straighter, her eyes discreetly flicking from side to side. She leaned forward ever so slightly, a wide smile still painted across her face. In her gaze, something darker stared through Hux’s morbid joking to the truth behind his desire. 

“What if I told you I know someone?” she murmured softly.

Hux’s face screwed up slightly, head tilting to the side in obvious confusion. Phasma watched his reaction, obviously attempting to discern what he was feeling. Above all else, there was an inability to understand exactly what she meant.

“Know someone?” he repeated.

Phasma simply nodded, eyes once again scoping out the pub. No one was within five feet of them, most of the patrons crowded around the bar to watch whatever basketball game was playing on the television. Their cheering drowned out the near silent conversation well enough, but Hux suddenly felt on edge.

“Know someone who… who what? Can ensure that my father will die before he writes the new will?” Hux spoke slowly, feeling as though his train of thought definitely did not match Phasma’s.

Phasma read his expression, and Hux could only imagine how wild his eyes were. His heart beat rapidly at what his best friend could be insinuating. She was a police officer, Hux reminded himself, she must be kidding.

The two stared at one another in silence for another minute and a half, each trying to read the other’s mind. Phasma narrowed her eyes, leaning in a little closer. Hux watched her just as fiercely, feeling as if he would vomit if she did not answer within the next few seconds.

“Yeah,” she leaned back again, sipping her drink, “You could say that,” 

Hux let out a weak laugh, feeling none of the anxiety subside. There was nothing he had to offer, nothing he could say to tell Phasma that he wanted to hear more. Instead, he sat quietly and watched her with pleading eyes, desperate for her to give him some solution to the issue. 

Phasma gestured to his drink, and he cupped his trembling hands around the beer, sipping it quicker than ever before. She looked pleased, and did another quick scan of the bar before waving the waiter over for the check. 

“Let’s take a walk,” Phasma suggested.

Twenty minutes later Hux found himself in a club playing the loudest music he had ever experienced. People swarmed around them, mostly drunk or on some sort of drug. Phasma looked as relaxed as ever, leaning casually against the wall as she watched a group start to move away from a table.

Hux was yanked through the crowd, and he blindly followed. It wasn’t the right time to dissociate, he knew that, but he already had the familiar fuzziness in his head. Phasma pinched his shoulder, trying to draw him back. 

Hux sidled into a chair next to Phasma, resting his chin on the heel of his hand. She lovingly fussed up his hair before carefully arranging it all back into place. He could barely hear her laugh over the heavy bass of the song. 

“There’s someone who owes me a favor,” Phasma spoke quickly into his ear.

Hux felt his face heat up, and his heart started to race. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but he remained silent. Phasma was his best friend, he trusted her more than anyone else on earth. 

He nodded, urging her to continue. Phasma could sense his uneasiness, that much was apparent by her attempts at consoling him.

“I caught him in a drug bust about two years back,” Phasma explained.

“He’s a drug addict?” Hux’s eyes grew wide, looking at Phasma like she was crazy.

Phasma shook her head, rubbing his back. The people around seemed to be closing in, like they were all undercover police about to swarm. With one wrong word, Hux would be thrown in jail for the rest of his life, with his father fully aware of a failed assassination plot against him.

“Dealer,” Phasma corrected, “Used to be. He’s off of that now,”

Hux nodded slowly, trying to process the information as quickly and fully as possible. Everything was fine. Phasma wasn’t going to set him up with some random junkie on the street with a gun. She knew better.

“He offered me a favor, if I let him off for dealing,” Phasma grinned, “A favor that I believe will come in handy to you,”

“To kill my dad,” Hux clarified, and Phasma scoffed.

“Christ, Hux,” she mumbled, glancing around, “Be cool,”

Hux laughed aloud, feeling like he would vomit all over the floor if he didn’t keep his mouth shut for the next few seconds. He tore his hands through his hair, and within ten seconds was back to the stoic demeanor he usually put on to stifle any unwanted emotions.

“You’re a…” his voice trailed off, “You know…”

“A cop,” Phasma finished the sentence.

Hux nodded eagerly, hoping that it would be enough to make her understand his confusion. She simply shrugged, tucking her hair back behind her ear. 

“I’m a New York City cop,” she said, as though it was obvious, “Everyone’s got their dirt. I keep up with the kid, make sure he’s not getting into too much trouble. Figured it might come in handy someday,”

Hux chuckled, shaking his head. He wondered what else his best friend had been up to without his knowledge, and she offered a wink as an answer. 

“Plus, he was my in to a drug ring we’ve been trying to bust for years,” Phasma continued, “Figured it all evens out in the wash,”

“Always trying to justify your wild behavior,” Hux joked weakly. 

Phasma squeezed his hand, sliding him a plastic cup of ice water. Hux gulped it down, and felt the cool relief pool in the bottom of his stomach. 

“Tell me more,” Hux urged her gently. 

Phasma pushed her chair closer so that there was almost no space between them. An onlooker would just see two drunk people at a club, hanging all over each other. Hux wondered how many conversations like this he had witnessed himself and never realized.

“He goes by the name ‘Kylo Ren’, and he’s the leader of a group of hitmen,” Phasma murmured, lips brushing against Hux’s ear, “The Knights of Ren, they’re called. Very discreet, very good at what they do. Mainly hired hits for drug cartels and gangs, sometimes higher profile scumbags if the situation is right. They have some sort of code against running around killing just anyone,”

“A code,” Hux swallowed.

What if his father was against the code? What if Phasma was working him up like this, and he was imagining this whole new life, and even the hitmen wouldn’t help him? What if he was truly on his own in regards to Brendol?

“Like I said,” Phasma leaned back, “The guy owes me a favor,”

Things were quiet for the next few minutes. Hux tried to wrap his head around everything. There was no way he woke up that morning expecting his life to take such a drastic turn. But, here he was. Sitting in a club he never would have gone to otherwise, trying to reconfigure his entire future, and discussing a hit job with his childhood best friend. 

He thought about his father, racking his brain for just one memory that would discourage him from doing this. Try as he might, he could only remember times where he wished with everything within himself to be rid of the controlling presence.

Hux told himself that it was wrong, that taking a life was immoral. His hands anxiously fidgeted against his arms, and he felt the familiar bump of scar tissue against his fingertips. Every hit, every kick, every drunken tirade came back to him.

The words of his father earlier on the phone rested eerily at the back of his head. Hux remembered every second he wished for death instead of another blow from his father. For decades, he was just the punching bag of a man who was supposed to care for him.

Hux knew he would never be free to live as himself with the man still out there. He had wasted almost half of his life already, and he refused to waste more. 

Swirling around in his seat, Hux grabbed a shot off of a tray being carried by a waitress. It was so quick that she didn’t notice as she tried to cut through the crowd. Before anyone noticed, he swallowed the alcohol and slid the glass to Phasma to set on the empty bar beside her.

“Call the guy,” Hux demanded gruffly.

Phasma quirked an eyebrow, staring at him suspiciously. Hux did not back down, watching as she pulled a black flip phone out of her purse. He narrowed his eyes, and she punched in four or five numbers before closing the phone.

Neither carried the conversation on further. Instead, they discussed the lack of space in the club, the crazy outfits they saw, the drinks that were definitely too expensive for anyone sober to order. Hux laughed at Phasma’s jokes, and after a while he started to forget why they were there in the first place.

In the middle of the conversation, Phasma’s eyes snapped to her purse, and she shoved her hand back in. The phone was going off, vibrating with a new message. Her eyes scanned the screen briefly, and then the phone was casually broken in half and thrown into a garbage can beside the table.

Phasma rose from the chair, and Hux obediently followed. They left the club silently, moving down the street with ease. Phasma pulled two baseball caps out of her purse, placing one on her own head and handing the other to Hux. The hood of her sweatshirt was yanked up, and Hux suddenly felt very out of place.

He was still in his work clothes, just the slacks and a button up shirt. Thankfully, he left his suit jacket at the office before he left. Still, it felt off putting to be wearing a hat with the outfit, and he looked at Phasma anxiously.

She gave him a onceover and sighed, snatching the cap back. She simply shrugged, and Hux worriedly pushed his hair back. Phasma clapped him on the back, but it did not quell his nerves.

People were out and about, but so many as to force Hux to weave through the crowd with difficulty. He kept his eyes down, and watched Phasma’s shoes to maintain her in his sight at all time. She was effortless, casual and cool as she moved through the people. Hux tried to embody her normalcy, but feared he failed.

They kept walking in silence for about ten minutes, Hux desperate for some kind of information. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, his words caught in the back of his throat. Perhaps, he thought, a lack of answers would be better.

They arrived at a tiny corner diner, 24 hours and family run. Hux craned his neck to peer inside, but Phasma held him firmly by the shoulders. She adjusted her cap, and removed the sweatshirt hood. Giving Hux a onceover, she smiled firmly and squeezed him tightly. 

“Hux,” she looked at him more intensely than any other point of the night.

Hux swallowed, feeling it stick in his tight throat. It was now or never he realized. Every moment of the day had been building up to this man, to Kylo Ren. Perhaps, he considered fleetingly, every moment of his life. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Phasma murmured softly, “There are other ways,” 

Hux felt his bottom lip shake slightly. He had always considered that he was a deeply, morally corrupt man. All his life people told him that he was bad, that he would never be anything more than the person he always had been.

All his life, Hux thought one day he would prove them wrong. 

“I will support you no matter what,” Phasma reminded him sternly, “We can still walk away from this, if it’s what you want,” 

Hux nodded slowly, taking the words into account. He imagined his father, probably out in some speakeasy with a cigar in one hand, a glass of brown liquor beside him, and a woman forty years his prior in his lap. Everything inside of him twisted with disgust and anger. 

“What do you want?” Hux asked her softly, “This involves you just as much,”

Phasma smiled softly, cradling Hux’s cheek with her hand. She shook her head, and let out a sad little laugh. Hux wondered just how pathetic he looked through her eyes, how desperate he was to be on the verge of murder.

“I want what will make you happy,” Phasma promised, genuinity seeping from her gaze. 

Hux licked his lips, mulling over the options. It truly was down to this decision, down to this thirty seconds he was allotted before they would run out of time to consider. Phasma squeezed his shoulder one last time, and he felt the warmth of the pressure spread through his body.

“Take me to him,” Hux answered quietly.

Phasma did not debate, did not try to talk Hux out of it, did not ask him if he was ready to live with the guilt of a dead man. She only nodded, and looked at him with knowing eyes. Over the last thirty five years of his life, Hux had constantly done what he thought was right in the viewpoint of another. He no longer cared what anyone else thought.

The door of the diner opened with the ring of a little bell, and Hux nearly jumped. Instead of desperately searching around for who they might be looking for, Hux kept his eyes glued on Phasma’s torso. He figured it was a decent middle ground. 

The restaurant was almost completely empty. A man stood behind the counter, fussing with a hamburger that kept tipping over. He cursed under his breath in a language that Hux did not recognize, and kept trying to poke at it so it would stay. 

At a table towards the back, Hux saw a man sitting with his back to a wall. From his position, Hux figured he had eyes on the entire diner. Phasma kept walking in his direction, and Hux forced himself not to stare.

“Here,” Phasma ordered, gesturing to the empty side of the booth. 

Hux slid in quietly, and Phasma moved to grab an empty chair from one of the tables. The three sat in the shape of a triangle, all just about equidistant apart. Hux was unsure where he was supposed to look, and glanced to Phasma for some sort of guidance.

She raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to speak first. Hux cast his eyes down to the table, drawing in a deep breath. He was strong, he was vicious. He trusted Phasma with his life, and he couldn’t sit like a cowering child any longer. 

Today was the day that Hux took the pent up anger and directed it to the proper place. 

Looking up, he finally examined the man before him. Kylo Ren was huge. Broad shoulders were covered with a beat up leather jacket, a faded black t-shirt underneath. His hair rested in waves along his shoulders, falling messily to frame his face.

Kylo Ren wore sunglasses dark enough to block out his eyes completely, despite sitting indoors at night. The expression on his face was entirely neutral, but Hux still felt slightly intimidated. He sat up straighter without realizing it.

The most eye catching aspect of Kylo Ren was the long scar that ran down the side of his face. Hux imagined that it began where the sunglasses covered, but he did not know exactly where. It continued onto his neck, and disappeared under his shirt. 

Hux did not spend more than a second tracing it before he stared back at the sunglasses, hopeful but not expecting some kind of eye contact. There was something about the man that truly intrigued Hux, but much more immediate was the fear of being killed during the course of their conversation.

“Mr. Ren,” Hux blurted out finally, “Nice to meet you,”

Hux stuck his hand out to shake, settling halfway across the table. Kylo Ren did not flinch at the movement, just sat still in silence for a few seconds. Hux went over the interaction in his head, afraid he was too loud or forward, wondering if he should have moved or stayed stoically still.

He did not look to Phasma for the answer. Instead, he stayed with his hand frozen over the center of the table, eyes fixed on the dark glasses. 

Kylo Ren reached up to flick the glasses down the bridge of his nose. He peered at Hux briefly, giving him a onceover, before he glanced in Phasma’s direction. Hux watched her shrug out of the corner of his eye, and before he could breathe Kylo Ren was staring into his eyes once again.

They were deep brown, dark just like everything about him. Hux did not feel surprised. They held eye contact for about thirty seconds of silence, just staring at one another. Willing his hand to stop shaking, Hux maintained his position without fail.

Kylo Ren flicked the glasses back up, and relaxed into the booth. One of his ridiculously long legs moved to prop his foot up on the seat, and he turned sideways. The seat looked like it could fit three normal sized people with no issue, but the man took up its entirety with the new position.

“Kylo is fine,” he answered finally, and Hux was thrown at how gravelly his voice came. 

Phasma reached out to swat Hux’s hand, and it returned to his lap hesitantly. Running the interaction through his head, he tried desperately to determine his current standing with the other man. Probably not great, he thought. 

“This is your favor?” Kylo asked Phasma, speaking casually and at a volume that Hux considered to be too loud, “This guy?” 

Hux looked to Phasma quickly, trying his best to emulate confidence. She smirked at him, rolling her eyes and squeezing his shoulder. 

“I’ve known Hux since I was a kid,” Phasma nodded, “He’s cool,” 

Hux nodded in agreement, trying to relax a quarter of the amount his counterparts were. Phasma was sitting with the chair flipped around, leaning on the back of it with her head resting on her hands. Kylo chewed gum loudly, and had a half finished glass of chocolate milk in front of him.

What the fuck kind of hitman drinks chocolate milk, Hux thought to himself. 

“Hux,” his name tumbled out of Kylo’s mouth, sending chills down his spine, “Interesting name,” 

“Says the guy named Kylo Ren,” Hux quipped.

No one laughed, and Kylo stopped chewing his gum for a moment. Hux did not flinch, and tried to maintain an air of confidence. It was difficult to discern the exact behavior he should hold at a meeting regarding the assassination of his father. 

Suddenly, Kylo laughed. It was loud, and hulking, exactly what Hux expected. He pushed himself up slightly, letting his leg swing back with his foot landing on the ground heavily. The sunglasses were flicked down once more before they were cast aside entirely, tucked nicely in the jacket pocket. 

“It’s not my given name,” Kylo pointed out, “So I guess it doesn’t really count,” 

“Well, I think it should,” Hux breathed, “After all, someone had to give it to you,” 

Kylo quirked an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. He glanced at Phasma, who had remained silent the entire time, and gave her a quick nod. She beamed back at him, and clapped Hux on the shoulder. 

“Christ, Phasma, could you bring a more narc-y looking guy?” Kylo asked with a roll of his eyes.

“He was fresh out of work when I picked him up,” Phasma shrugged, “And his eyes look like that normally,”

Hux furrowed his eyebrows, and she just laughed him off. Kylo leaned forward to take a sip of his chocolate milk from the straw, and Hux still found it to be the most off putting aspect of the meeting.

“Office man? Got the whole 9 to 5 gig?” Kylo inquired, leaning forward.

“Executive VP of a printing company,” Hux answered quietly. 

Kylo let out a low whistle, fiddling with his fingers. He flipped through the menu that was splayed out before him, and Hux wondered how much he was really reading it. If something to read had been placed before him at the moment, he doubted his literacy.

“So, let me guess,” Kylo drummed his fingers, “Your boss. Someone up there that you need to get out of the way for a promotion or whatever,”

Hux felt his cheeks heat up, and he anxiously looked around the restaurant. The man behind the counter had finished the burger, and was currently halfway through eating it. No one else was in the immediate vicinity, but he couldn’t tell who might be in the kitchen. 

“Relax,” Kylo yawned, “I’m no amateur,” 

Hux nodded slowly, messing with his hands underneath the table. A few miles away, his cat was waiting for her nightly feeding, and he was two or three hours later than he had ever been before. Perhaps, he thought, that was a good enough excuse to leave.

Looking at Kylo, he felt small. There was everything knowing behind the man’s gaze, like he had done this a million times before, seen every possible reason for a hit, and for some reason had the moral superiority in the relationship. 

Hux felt the familiar heat of the anger rising up.

“No,” he stated simply, “My father,”

Kylo’s eyebrows quirked, but the surprise did not last more than half a second. More than anything, he looked disappointed in his lack of a correct guess, like it was a game for him. Hux supposed there had to be some means of finding fun on the job.

“Right,” Kylo grinned, “How much is he leaving you?” 

Hux sputtered, looking down. Kylo shot finger guns in Phasma’s direction, and she just rolled her eyes. There was more to it than that, Hux wanted to say, but he didn’t think it would make a difference. 

“I’m about to be written out of the will,” he muttered, “For his wife,”

Kylo shook his head, like it was all too easy. He finished off his chocolate milk, and hopped up from the booth to wander off towards the counter. Hux despised the smirk on his face, like he knew exactly who Hux was and what his motivations were.

Phasma patted his arm sympathetically, but still snickered quietly to herself. Hux grimaced in her direction, trying to seem as menacing as possible. It was a difficult feat for a man surrounded by a criminal and a dirty cop. 

“So,” Kylo beamed as he stalked over, “Your old man is cutting you off,”

Hux rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Kylo’s cheery demeanor threw him off, and for a moment he forgot he was about to pay the other man to kill his father. Hux straightened up slightly, and the other seemed amused at his cattiness.

“It’s complicated,” Hux settled with after a moment.

“I need something,” Kylo stated flatly, “Just a smidge of proof he deserves to die, perhaps?”

The way he asked for the story was taunting, like he didn’t believe Hux had anything to offer up. Phasma scoffed, but Kylo shot her a look, daring her to get involved. She sat quietly, and Hux stared at his fingers.

The sleeves of his dress shirt sat neatly at the very base of his hand. If he could, he would have yanked them up higher. Instead, he was forced to stare at his pale fingers trembling. When he looked up, he noticed Kylo watching them as well.

“I’m his bastard,” Hux admitted plainly.

Kylo’s eyebrow shot up, seemingly impressed with the bluntness of the confession. Removing a little pocket sized notebook from his jacket, he flipped open the cover to a blank page. Hux drew his eyes away, not wanting to know the taunts being written down about what he was saying.

“Adulterer? Or born out of wedlock?” Kylo’s grin was menacing, like he was trying to rev Hux up. 

“Adulterer,” Hux confirmed through gritted teeth.

Kylo nodded, scribbling something down. His eyes flashed to Hux’s hands again, like he was waiting for them to reach across the table and grab him. It took a lot out of Hux not to do just that. 

“Well,” Kylo sighed impatiently, “Go on then,” 

Hux tried to sort out everything his father had done to him. He tried to think of a way to explain it aloud, to delve into every deep dark secret that not even Phasma knew. Red crept along his cheeks, the flush spreading to his chest.

It became difficult for Hux to breathe. The air caught in his throat and threatened to stay, to not let any fresh air in. The base of his neck itched like poison ivy, and he refrained from reaching up to scratch. Every part of his skin crawled with the memories at the front of his mind.

“He’s a drunk. Rich as hell from screwing people over. Holds impossible standards for everyone but himself,” Hux chewed on his tongue, “Real fan of physical punishment for children,”

Hux stared at Kylo straight on, feeling his throat swell with the nerves. Something shifted in the other man’s gaze, like he could see differently all of the sudden. Hux felt as though his story was one in the same with every rich asshole, despite it being so personally awful to him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Hux huffed, “You’ve probably seen the same thing a million times. I’m not special I’m just… I want him gone. I want him gone so I can just…” 

Hux felt the world swallowing him up rapidly once again. Before long he would be back in his spiral, desperate for anything to pull him out of it. The next morning, he would be in the same office doing the same work, all to please a man that he would give anything to be out of his life. 

The only way to get rid of the hold on him was for him to die, Hux convinced himself. That’s the only way he would be truly free for the first time in his life. Even that seemed uncertain. 

“I just want to be able to breathe,” Hux finished finally.

His head ducked down slightly, embarrassed at his flush. It felt wrong to divulge this to a stranger. Half of Hux thought that it was all an elaborate trick Phasma put on just to get him to open up about how deeply his father hurt him in the past. 

Hux heard scraping against the table, and let his eyes flicker up quickly. Kylo pushed his glass of chocolate milk across the table, and had his arm outstretched with an extra staw. Hux sat in stunned silence for a moment, before tentatively reaching out to take the paper wrapped plastic. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Kylo did not answer, simply watched Hux with curious eyes. Once again, his feet were propped up on the booth, and he looked far too casual to be a murderer. Hux noticed for the first time just how young he looked, his boyish features cleverly hidden with facial hair. It didn’t hide those doe like eyes though. 

“Phasma,” Kylo’s head snapped in her direction, “Leave us for a moment, won’t you?” 

Hux looked to her anxiously, almost having forgotten that she sat between the two. Hux feared that he might be killed if she left, that no one would be around to protect him from the hitman. Perhaps, he considered, she had brought him here to die in the first place because she was sick of his whining.

“You’re going to be okay, Huxy,” Phasma cooed, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. 

“Yeah, Huxy,” Kylo beamed, “You’ll be just fine,”

Hux would have snapped at him, had he not been a trained assassin. Instead, he sipped quietly on the chocolate milk and shrugged as Phasma walked away. She seated herself at the other side of the restaurant before Kylo let out a barking laugh.

“It’s such a lovely night,” he sneered, “Would be a shame to waste it without a nice walk around the block,”

Phasma narrowed her eyes, but Kylo stood firm in his condition. Finally, she shoved the chair back from the table and rose. There was an unspoken conversation between the two, threats and promises coming from both sides. Hux wished he could have been let in on the secret. 

“You’ll be fine,” Phasma repeated before she left, shooting Hux a thumbs up as the door closed behind her. 

Hux was unsure as to why they needed to be alone. It felt unnecessary, like he was a weak willed old woman and Kylo was a tricky salesman with a pyramid scheme. Hux opened his mouth to argue, but when those chocolate eyes met his own he lost the ability to speak. 

“Think of it like a meeting you’d have at work,” Kylo grinned easily.

“My clients usually aren’t armed,” Hux grimaced.

Kylo feigned innocence, eyes wide as he gestured confusedly to himself. He put his arms up, a faux surrender. Hux saw right through the facade.

“Me?” he asked bewilderedly, “Armed? I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” 

Hux faked a smile, playing along with the little game. He did not answer at first, simply sipped loudly on the drink that Kylo gave him. Removing his lips from the straw, he politely blotted the corners of his lips with one of the napkins beside them.

“Left ankle,” Hux stated simply. 

Kylo drew back slightly, the smile slipping off of his face. He did not move his arms, and Hux felt his heartbeat increase at his shift in demeanor. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and he would hate to be the loser. 

“9 MM Glock 26 Gen 3, if I had to guess,” he offered a smirk of his own.

Neither man moved. Hux heard the clock ticking in the background, and the sound of fryers in the kitchen. Slowly but surely, a wide grin spread across Kylo’s face. He leaned back casually in his seat, but made no attempt to grab the gun. 

Hux leaned in closer, until the two were just a few inches apart. It was the closest they had been so far, the most direct with one another. Without Phasma watching over his shoulder, Hux held a new lease on life. If he died, so be it. He figured he had never truly been alive anyway.

“You’re a gun man, huh?” Kylo whistled, “Wouldn’t have taken you for it,”

“It’s similar to the one my father used to wave in my face after a few drinks,” Hux hissed, voice dripping with venom.

Hux smiled sweetly, refusing to back down first. Kylo could underestimate him all he wanted, could put him in a box with the other trust fund babies whose parents he knocked off for inheritance money. It didn’t matter what the other man thought of him, it mattered that his father died before the week was up.

“Well,” Kylo murmured under his breath, “I’m always a sucker for a man with daddy issues,”

Hux’s jaw went slack ever so slightly, his eyelashes fluttering at the words. It had been a long time since anyone spoke to him like that, and the huskiness of Kylo’s voice sent shivers down his spine. Hux scoffed, leaning back in his seat.

Kylo bit his lip, flicking his eyes up and down Hux’s body. If this was how the other man ran a business, it was certainly lacking professionality, Hux thought. 

“You’re blushing,” Kylo taunted, voice low.

“You’re staring,” Hux quipped back.

Kylo folded his arms across his chest but did not take his eyes off of Hux. The table between them suddenly felt smaller, like it was disappearing inch by inch. Hux shifted uncomfortably, and examined his nails nonchalantly. 

“Hard not to,” Kylo answered finally.

Hux wanted to roll his eyes, but was hyper aware of the gun tucked just within Kylo’s reach. It hadn’t been long since Phasma left him alone with the other man, and he silently prayed for her return. Glancing at the smoldering stare, he started to worry that he was going to end up between the sheets with Kylo Ren. 

“Very hard,” Kylo spoke slowly, accentuating each word.

“Watch it,” Hux demanded, shooting him a look.

Kylo raised his hands again, settling back in his seat. Hux noticed how much he fidgeted, like he constantly needed to be moving. If he wasn’t rocking back and forth in the seat, he was drumming his fingers along the edge of the table. It set Hux on edge. 

“This is a business meeting after all,” Hux remarked quickly. 

Kylo laughed, the feeling booming in Hux’s chest. He yanked a napkin out of the dispenser, scribbling on it with a pen. Hux craned his eyes slightly to try and read the messy writing, but couldn’t quite make it out.

“It’s a contract,” Kylo offered, “As I am a contract killer,” 

Hux snorted, imagining himself at work offering a client something to sign on a paper napkin. Kylo glanced up, daring Hux to say something. 

“I mean, come on,” Hux sighed, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”

Kylo simply shook his head, sliding over the napkin and the pen. There were a few bullet points, but Hux could barely make out the handwriting. Half of him wanted to draw up a detailed document on Microsoft Word and send it to Kylo’s people to look over. 

Looking up at Kylo, he wondered if he had any people. The sadness poorly hidden within his eyes suggested otherwise. 

“You’ll do it then,” Hux clarified quietly, “You’ll kill my father?” 

Kylo nodded, and had they been discussing something else Hux could have mistaken it for excitedness. Hux sighed deeply, one weight lifting from his chest as another settled into place. He wondered if he would ever truly be rid of the anxiety his father cost him.

“I need more information,” Hux declared solemnly. 

“That I can’t give you,” Kylo shrugged casually.

Hux buried his face in his hands, trying to sort out the pros and cons of the situation. He felt something ruffle his hair, and his head shot up to catch Kylo in the midst of returning to his side of the table. 

“I’ll tell you this,” Kylo divulged, “It’ll be done by Sunday, there will be no way to trace it back to either of us, and it’ll be painless,” 

Hux mulled over the words, and nodded slowly. Part of him wished for his father to suffer, to be forced to think over the way he mistreated those in his life for hours until he slowly withered away. This, though, this was safer. And probably more humane. 

“Deal,” Hux nodded curtly.

“One more thing,” Kylo quipped.

Hux furrowed his eyebrows, head cocked to the side. Of course, it was likely the matter of payment. He expected it to be plenty expensive, but if everything went according to plan there would be no need of worrying about that. Hux had plenty saved up anyways, just in case anything ever happened to his job security. 

“Name it,” Hux insisted.

Kylo watched him with a glint in his eyes, obviously curious as to how the other man would react to his last condition. Hux wished the drama would just end so that he could go home. He doubted it would be an easy few days, what constantly wondering whether his father was still alive or if this entire thing had just been some sort of elaborate way to send him to jail. But it would be nice to hop in the shower, he thought plainly. 

“You’re coming with me,” Kylo stated finally.

Hux sputtered, more thrown off than any other point in their meeting. What would he have to offer to this expedition? Absolutely nothing, he assumed. Perhaps, it was some twisted way for Kylo to get the money and then kill Hux on top of it, or to scam him and leave his father still alive.

“It’s part of the deal,” Kylo assured him, “You have to meet with your father one more time before I kill him,” 

Hux shook his head, trying to think of every excuse to get out of it. When Phasma mentioned the code, he didn’t expect this to be a part of it.

“I don’t understand,” Hux admitted shakily. 

“It’s simple,” Kylo continued, “You have to look your father in the eyes one more time, then leave that house and tell me you want him dead,”

Hux laughed breathlessly, trying to wrap his head around the idea. For hours, he thought the last time he would have ever spoken to his father was that morning. Now, he was going to have to see his father face to face for the first time in years right before he died. 

“Do I…” Hux swallowed, “Do I have to watch him die?”

Kylo looked at him with a softer gaze, and silently shook his head. Hux nodded to himself, trying to process the scenario. He could do this, he told himself, he was sure that another meeting would only cement his desire to rid his life of his father for good. 

A weekend with Kylo Ren, the mysterious hitman, traveling to end his father’s life and secure the family fortune. It sounded like something out of a book he would have read in high school. 

Kylo watched him expectantly, waiting for the final answer. If he said no, would things go back to being normal? Hux didn’t think so. He would always be haunted with the fact that he had come this close to killing his father, but couldn’t go through with it. 

“I’m in,” Hux answered finally. 

Kylo stuck his hand out in the same fashion that Hux had done earlier. They stared at each other, smiles slowly creeping across their faces. Hux gripped Kylo’s hand, feeling tingles spread from his fingertips throughout his body at the warmth of the other man’s skin.

For a moment, they stared in silence at one another. Hux felt himself getting lost in those eyes.

“We leave in the morning,”


	2. Chapter 2

The maroon duffel bag laid across the bed, vacant and splayed out awaiting Hux’s neatly folded piles. It was difficult to pack for a trip he had been given close to no information about. 

“Once again,” Phasma’s voice came muffled from the room over, “You really do not have to do this,”

Hux rolled his eyes, switching out a tan sweater for a dark green one. He supposed when traveling with a hitman, he should dress as dark as possible as to not stand out. Phasma wandered into the room, scooping up some of his decisions and ruining the carefully sorted piles.

Falling back onto the bed, Hux rubbed his stinging eyes. Getting a good night’s sleep came difficult to a man that had just ordered a hit on his father, and would soon be joining the mysterious murderer on a trip to Georgia. 

“I didn’t think he would make you go,” Phasma admitted quietly. 

Hux rolled over onto his side, staring at the woman. She neatly folded the clothes she messed up, and flitted around the room to make her own substitutions. Worry plagued her voice, something fairly unusual for the other. 

“You mentioned a code,” Hux noted.

Phasma looked him up and down, eyes drawn to the bags beneath his eyes. Hux never slept well, that had always been apparent. But this morning he looked like he had been hit by a bus and left alone in the road for several hours. 

He felt similarly.

“I just thought the favor would extend a little further,” Phasma explained, stuffing Hux’s duffel.

Normally, he would have slapped her hands away, placed every pile in the exact position he wanted and ignored her ruthless teasing. Today, he could only watch from his place on the bed and feel secretly thankful that she stuck around him for so long.

Phasma always talked her head off about anything and everything to the point where Hux could comfortably drown her out for a few minutes without her realization. He did not like the lack of taunts and teases coming from her carefully painted lips. 

“Do you trust him?” Hux murmured offhandedly. 

Phasma stopped her packing and sighed. She rounded the bed and sat on the vacant space beside Hux, falling back so their heads rested beside one another. Fingers carding through his hair, she searched his expression.

“I wouldn’t have brought you to him if I didn’t trust him through every possible way this could play out,” Phasma assured him, “He’s a good man, underneath the whole ‘murder’ thing,” 

Hux laughed aloud, shaking his head at just how ridiculous the situation felt. Within a half hour, he would be face to face with a known murderer. He would be traveling, eating, speaking with a murderer for the weekend, like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Then what’s up,” Hux frowned, “Why are you so hesitant about this?”

Phasma provided her signature shrug, and Hux shoved her shoulder. She giggled, settling back into place beside him. Hux grunted as he was hit with her left arm across his stomach, pulled in for a hug too tight for his liking. 

“I don’t want this to fuck you up,” Phasma stated simply. 

“Bit late for that,” Hux scoffed in return.

Phasma ruffled his hair, pushing herself up and off of the bed. Hux chewed on his bottom lip, pulling out a piece of paper to comb through the list of things he had to pack. Everything seemed to be in order, and he swallowed, knowing that any moment he and Phasma would walk out the front door.

“Why don’t you have any cute underwear?” Phasma scoffed from the other side of the room.

Hux practically leapt off of the bed, slamming the drawer closed the second her fingers cleared the way. Phasma smirked at him, holding up a pair she had snatched from the dresser. 

Hux ripped it from her hands, slipping it into the drawer before standing in front of it so she couldn’t open it again.

“Why would I-What does-” Hux stuttered anxiously, pacing back and forth, “I’m traveling to Georgia with a hitman to kill my dad, where does cute underwear play into this?”

Phasma chuckled to herself, rolling her eyes like he was missing out on some obvious joke. Hux could feel his familiar blush, cursing his pale skin for reddening so easily. There was nothing more that he wanted than to just move on from the conversation.

“You cannot be serious,” Phasma placed a hand on her hip.

Hux stuttered some more under his breath, crossing the room to zip up his bag. What did he need cute underwear for, even in general? It wasn’t like the crippling fear of his father discovering his sexuality left much room for hookups or relationships.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hux snapped.

Phasma reached to open the drawer again, but stopped when she saw the daggers in Hux’s eyes. She traipsed around the room, pushing Hux over the edge. He jammed his glasses in the corner pockets of his bag, nearly breaking the zipper with how hard he yanked it.

“Kylo would not stop checking you out last night,” Phasma practically squealed.

Hux looked at her incredulously, unaware as to how she could act as though it was a cute mutual friend they bumped into at a bar the night before. Phasma shot him a wink, and Hux yanked at his hair.

“He wha- I have no idea what could make you… first of all, he wasn’t, but even if…” Hux let out a harsh breath through his pursed lips, pacing back and forth.

Phasma laughed aloud watching him, and Hux felt like he was thrown back to high school when Phasma used to whisper about the ‘probably gay’ theater boys that stared at Hux in homeroom. It was almost an identical scene.

“Come on,” Phasma urged, “I saw how you two were looking at each other,”

Hux threw his hands up into the air, feeling the flush spread to his chest. It was something he forced himself not to think about, the fear of the other man was still so visceral. 

“Kylo Ren is a hit man,” Hux whispered angrily, eyes darting back and forth.

“More like a hot man,” Phasma shimmied, tongue stuck out suggestively. 

Hux picked a pillow up from the bed and screamed into it. 

Leave it to Phasma to get him so worked up over the aspect of a hit that had nothing to do with the murder of his father. Instead, he was suddenly panicked that he would have to put up with more unabashed flirting throughout the weekend. 

Phasma continued to laugh, and Hux tried to drown it out. Sure, the other man had big dreamy eyes and long dark hair. Sure, he was big enough to probably pick Hux up, which was rare and definitely one of Hux’s deepest fantasies. Sure, Kylo definitely had given Hux a few lingering onceovers.

Hux lost himself in the thoughts, caught up on the plush lips that had quirked up into a smile the second their hands touched. He paused for a moment, wondering if they felt as good as they looked.

“Kylo Ren is scary,” Hux sneered when he snapped out of it, willing his heart to stop beating so erratically.

“Fair enough,” Phasma nodded, “Fear is closely linked to sexual arousal though-”

Hux cut her off with a shake of his finger, slinging the duffel bag over his right shoulder and storming out of the room. He could practically feel the floor shake with Phasma’s belly laugh that followed. 

The two stopped in front of Hux’s door, and the giggly laughter wore off. The glint in Phasma’s eye suggested something soft in the motive behind her teasing, and Hux felt secretly thankful for her relentless taunting. 

Phasma reached out to clap him on the shoulder. They still had a quick subway ride and walk to another secure location that Kylo Ren sent Phasma earlier that morning. They were set to meet the man briefly after 5 o’clock, and Hux would say his final goodbye to his best friend. 

“Don’t have sex with a hitman,” Phasma ordered sternly. 

“I really don’t think that needs to be said,” Hux chuckled bashfully. 

Phasma ruffled his hair, pulling him in for a tight hug. Hux felt the air leave his lungs, aware that after they opened this door he would not see his home again until after the deed had been done. Many of his interactions within the last twelve hours felt as though they were final, like he would not be able to come back from any of it. 

“Don’t fall in love with him either,” Phasma joked dramatically.

Hux snorted, and yanked the door open. She slugged an arm around his shoulder as they walked through the halls, leaving the apartment building to go into the street. It was quiet, the sun barely tinting the sky with light. 

Hux breathed in the morning air, and walked confidently down the street. To a passerby, he looked like any other man heading out early for a weekend trip. Kylo instructed him to call out sick that morning, and promised he would secure official documentation stating Hux had been to see a medical professional sometime during the day.

They rode the subway in silence. Hux fiddled with his fingers, feeling slightly helpless without his phone to check the morning news and e-mails. This way, if there was any investigation into foul play, his location would not be traced to Georgia. Phasma would stop by a few times a day to bring it out with her to the drug store or a restaurant, nothing too crazy but just enough to show he had been out of the house.

Hux felt his heartbeat increase with every step they took after they got off of the subway. He did not recognize the neighborhood, and kept his eyes down in case he looked out of place. Phasma moved with ease, oozing confidence. 

Hux truly envied her. 

Kylo Ren was visible from well down the street after they turned a few corners. He leaned casually against the side of a building, cigarette hanging from his lips. Smoke pooled around above his head, drifting off into the morning sky.

Hux felt his mouth go dry at the sight of those plush lips pursed around the cigarette. It was a disgusting habit, he was well aware, but elegance dripped from the flick of Kylo’s fingers as he took slow and deliberate drags of the smoke. 

The same dark sunglasses rested on his face, blocking out whatever little light the morning had to offer. Still, he broke into a wide smile when he noticed Phasma and Hux walking towards him. Phasma instinctively reached down to stop Hux’s arm before he had the chance to wave.

“Still not gonna fuck him?” Phasma whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Hux ripped his arm away from the woman, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Subconsciously, he smoothed out his sweater and offered and equally bright smile. It was an off putting way to greet a hitman, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Well, well,” Kylo mused, “Five minutes early. Someone is eager,”

Hux ignored the way that the other man’s gaze lingered on him, focusing instead on how uncomfortable it felt to stand awkwardly in the middle of the street. He glanced around, trying to spot any cameras that might be focused on them.

“Kid thinks I’m an amateur,” Kylo scoffed to Phasma.

“You’re younger than I am,” Hux reminded him, eyes narrowed.

Kylo shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette. He held it out to Phasma, who shook her head casually. Lips quirking up, Kylo took a step towards Hux to offer him a drag. Hux’s nose crinkled up at the smell, shaking his head quickly.

“You don’t smoke?” Kylo asked innocently, blowing his latest drag directly in Hux’s face.

Hux coughed, waving it away and sucking in a breath of fresh air. Kylo looked pleased with himself, and Hux wondered how he was supposed to last an entire weekend with such an entitled asshole. 

“I like maintaining some semblance of health,” Hux shot back, “But black lungs definitely go really well with your whole look,” 

Kylo frowned, but Hux noticed that it wasn’t angry or offended. He looked more like a rejected puppy, stepping backwards to secure his place against the wall. 

“We must be talking physical health,” Kylo returned, “Because your mental health has a lot lacking from the looks of it,”

Hux felt his heart jump, and dropped his anxiously fiddling hands to his side. Kylo smirked, content in the striking of a nerve.

“Are serial killers usually psychopaths or sociopaths?” Hux smiled tensely, “I always get the two mixed up,”

Kylo’s jaw clenched, and he threw the cigarette down beside him. The heavy combat boots crushed it out, turning what was left to ash beneath his feet. Hux felt content in the reaction, the little jab spiking his adrenaline. So much for morning coffee, he thought. 

“I’ll be whatever it takes to pay the bills with your darling daddy’s money,” Kylo answered sweetly.

Phasma huffed, arms crossed over her chest. Hux stared at Kylo angrily, trying to keep his emotions in check. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move to bicker with a hired killer, but in his defense he was running on half an hour of sleep.

“You’re killing his dad,” Phasma warned Kylo darkly, “Not him. Got it?”

Kylo nodded, head lolling to the side. He fumbled with his pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes he kept in his jacket. Phasma reached forward to rip them from his hands, and got close enough to him that their noses almost touched. 

“He comes back with one scratch, and this is over,” Phasma threatened, voice low.

Hux could tell Kylo was rolling his eyes even with the sunglasses on, his demeanor not shifted at all from Phasma’s words. She yanked him closer by the jacket, flicking his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to expose those doe eyes.

“I’m sure Snoke would be happy to know you’re in New York now,” Phasma whispered, and Hux could just barely make out the words.

Something in Kylo shifted, and he looked to shrink about two feet after hearing the name Phasma uttered. He nodded quickly, whispering an inaudible promise. Phasma released him, shoving him back slightly so his back hit the wall.

“Don’t test me,” she warned bluntly, finger jabbing in the center of Kylo’s chest. 

The man regained his composure relatively quickly, smoothing out his jacket. He pushed the sunglasses back up, and Phasma shoved the cigarettes back into his hand. His fingers clenched it so tightly that Hux saw the box dent slightly.

With trembling fingers, Kylo pulled another out and placed it between his lips. It took him a few tries to get the lighter to go, and Hux watched as the flame danced from the way Kylo’s hands could not manage to hold still for even a second.

“Say your goodbyes,” Kylo spat out, words warped from the cigarette in his mouth.

Hux wanted to ask Phasma what that was all about, whether he should use the same threat if things got too intense, but Kylo stared right through him. Instead, Hux’s head ducked down and he made sure all of the zippers on his bag were secure for the fiftieth time. 

“We leave in five,” Kylo barked.

He wandered a little ways down the street, and Hux turned anxiously to Phasma. They held each other tightly, Hux feeling for the first time in a long time that the physical affection was equally desired. Hux had a thousand questions, but couldn’t bring himself to ask one.

Phasma handed him a burner phone, smiling gently at him. In it, there was just one number, which Hux could only assume was her own burner. He savored the weight in his hands, placing it quickly in one of the side pockets of his bag.

“Be good,” Phasma murmured, “Don’t get into trouble,”

Hux laughed, the words sounding like a mother sending her child off to a friend’s house. Hux looked down the street to see Kylo fiddling with an old car parked by a meter. The words could not have felt more off putting.

“He really is a good guy,” Phasma promised quietly.

Hux nodded, tearing his eyes away. She looked genuine. Hux wondered if this was just an elaborate set up to get him to meet someone, like she was always trying to do. Falling in love with a hitman, he thought. How cliche. 

“Don’t be too rough,” Phasma cradled the side of his face, “Call me if there’s an emergency,”

She pulled him in for one last hug, and Hux could feel the rapid beat of her heart. It felt wrong to see Phasma nervous, he thought she was just a bundle of confidence and luck. Now, she stared at him with all of the anxiety he felt in his own chest.

“Thank you,” Hux murmured, “I will see you soon, I promise,” 

Phasma nodded, her eyes misty. Hux knew she wouldn’t set him up to be hurt, and tried to tell what she might be so nervous over. The two pulled away, and Phasma waved goodbye.  
She walked the other way down the street, leaving Hux alone between his best friend and Kylo Ren. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner, probably heading home to sleep, Hux thought with a smile. 

Turning around, his eyes fell upon Kylo Ren. He was still smoking that same cigarette, leaning against the driver’s side of the rusty car. Hux hoped the hunk of junk would make it across the city to the airport, but he wasn’t sure it would.

Hux walked towards him, hand instinctively going up to wave when Kylo’s head turned towards him. The other man grinned, shaking his head so that his hair bounced. He held up his own hand in a quick wave, hand cutting slowly through the morning air. 

“Hop in,” Kylo offered, reaching his arm out expectantly. 

Hux held out his bag, and Kylo popped it into the trunk. When he slammed it, the whole car shook and Hux squeezed his eyes closed. He quickly did the seatbelt across his body, jamming it into the buckle as quickly as possible.

Kylo slid into the seat beside him, turned the key in the ignition and fumbled with some of the heating controls. It felt too similarly to any typical start to a trip in the car, and Hux felt his stomach turn at how off putting that truly was. 

Hux kept his eyes straight ahead, and noticed Kylo reaching around the center console. Before he could ask what the man was looking for, Kylo threw his upper body across the seat and into Hux’s lap to dig through the passenger side glove box.

The other man’s elbow dug into his thigh, causing Hux to shift uncomfortably. Kylo secured what he was reaching for, and casually opened up a folded piece of paper to scan the words to ensure that it was what he had been searching for.

“Please,” Hux rolled his eyes, “Crush me as long as you need to. Don’t move on my account,” 

“You look like the type to enjoy being crushed,” Kylo quipped, voice muffled from where his chin rested on Hux’s knee.

It took everything in Hux not to kick the other man off of him. Instead, he sat patiently as Kylo’s fingers swept through the leaflets before him. Finally, he pulled back and plopped one of them in Hux’s lap.

“You able to read maps?” Kylo asked, staring at him intently.

Hux glanced down at the paper that was handed to him, mouth slightly agape. 

“Getting to the airport from here isn’t difficult,” he offered, “I don’t think I’d need a map to-”

“Airport?” Kylo cut him off, eyes wide and wild.

Hux shut up instantly, suddenly feeling ridiculous for suggesting such a thing. The way Kylo looked at him was that of an adult listening to a child’s ramblings, not like he had offered directions to where he expected they would go.

“Well, I… I just assumed,” Hux argued back bitterly.

Kylo whistled, laughing softly to himself. Hux didn’t like the feeling of being left out of the loop, bitterly chewing on his bottom lip. It wasn’t like this was a typical Friday morning for him, he wanted to shout. 

“We’re leaving your cell phone here, and you thought we would be going through the ropes of flying? In this country?” Kylo shook his head, truly stunned.

“You said we’d be back by Sunday,” Hux argued, “And it’s a fourteen and a half hour drive, straight through, without traffic,” 

Kylo buried his face in his hands, shaking with laughter. Hux felt himself get angrier with every second, wanting to just be assured that it was understandable for him to have gotten confused. Instead, Kylo treated him like a dog that broke into the garbage and ate a plastic toy. 

“Sorry I don’t kill people for a living,” Hux quipped.

“Yeah,” Kylo sat up again, “Obviously,” 

Hux was unsure as to why he felt so insignificant suddenly. He was talking to a hitman, he had to keep reminding himself, a man with seemingly no moral compass. And yet, he just wanted the other to give him one positive affirmation.

Christ, he was fucked up.

“That insult is going to get old quick,” Kylo stretched his arms, nearly whacking Hux in the process.

“Excuse me?” Hux guffawed.

Kylo shrugged, unfolding the map and splaying it in Hux’s lap. He quirked an eyebrow, and Hux nodded with a huff to signal that he could, in fact, read a map. Kylo put on his turn signal to get into the street, despite no one being around. 

Hux found it ironic. 

“I’m just saying, that’s all you’ve got,” Kylo shrugged, “And might I point out that you’re paying me to kill someone. So, you know, you’re pretty involved,”

Hux mulled over the words in his head, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. Of course, he was right. The murder of his father would be just as fully on his hands, if not more than the man that would actually pull the trigger. 

Or, Hux considered, do whatever he would do. He doubted it would be anything with weapons, as that would scream foul play. The question sat at the tip of his tongue but he did not ask. 

“Well, I-” Hux started weakly.

“Shut up,” Kylo cut him off immediately. 

Hux sat in stunned silence, staring at the other man with wide eyes. Kylo grimaced angrily, slipping his sunglasses off of his face and resting them in the left cup holder. The map crinkled in Hux’s lap, his knuckles white from the grip with which he held onto it.

“Who do you think-” Hux snapped.

“I said shut up,” Kylo barked back, voice loud in relation to the quiet of the morning.

Hux’s eyes cast down, staring at the map. The other man had switched into something more brooding, solemn as he stared out at the road. They made their way onto a busier street, weaving between the cars around them with ease.

Kylo did not speak for some time, his hands gripping the wheel tightly and his eyes focused intensely on the road. Hux figured it was better than a reckless driver, especially if they were to go all the way to Georgia and back. 

Part of him doubted the car would make it. It was rusty, vibrated in ways it should not have, and looked to be older than either of the men sitting within it. Hux gripped onto the door tightly to avoid being jerked around by the rattling beast.

“Your job is to read the map and give directions,” Kylo ordered frankly. 

Hux did not scoff in return, or laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Kylo’s temper seemed to be on a short string, and he did not feel safe enough to play with it. The man who seemed unbothered by everything before they left was gone.

Hux thought himself an idiot for expecting a contract killer to be as easy going as Kylo Ren seemed before they piled into the car. Tracing the conversation back was useless, Hux had said much worse to the man previously with no such reaction.

Perhaps, now that Phasma was not within reach, Kylo would treat him as he treated anyone else. 

They drove in silence for close to an hour, the only noise from either being Hux instructing Kylo where to go every once in a while. Kylo accepted the directions wordlessly, his focus never leaving the windshield. 

Leaving the city seemed to put Kylo at some sort of ease. The grip he held on the leather wheel loosened, and his jaw went slack. Hux took the opportunity to sneak a look at the man from the corner of his eye. 

The top of his dark hair was tied back into a bun. Wisps of waves fell out, framing the sides of his face delicately like creeping vines. The parts that were not tied up curled in some areas, like they had been slept on when wet. 

Hux tried to imagine Kylo asleep. He wondered if the other man would hold the same scowl, teeth gritted like he was ready to attack at any moment. It was difficult to picture him fitting his enormous body into a bed. 

Kylo’s gaze stayed focused on the road, the sunglasses still tucked away to the side. The rising sun cast shadows along his cheekbones from his long, dark eyelashes. It helped to hide the purple petals of sleep deprivation nestled comfortably beneath his eyes.

As Hux initially guessed, the scar that ran along his face went well above his eye. It ended just above this bushy brow, about equally as deep across its entirety. Part of Hux wanted to trace his fingers from where it began all the way down to where it ended, somewhere beneath the collar of Kylo’s shirt. 

“You’re staring,” Kylo warned.

Hux’s eyes returned to his own lap. It made sense that he could not trick a man who had most likely been watching his back for the majority of his life. Hux wondered all of the things that Kylo noticed about his behaviors, what was going on in his own head.

“Are we going to sit in silence the entire way?” Hux asked tentatively.

“Yup,” Kylo popped the ‘p’. 

Hux rested his head on his fist, staring out the window as they barrelled down the highway. He noticed that the cruise control was set to the exact speed limit, not even a mile over. It made sense that Kylo didn’t want to be pulled over for something as stupid as speeding.

“Not even music?” Hux pressed.

For the first time in their hour journey, Kylo looked over at Hux. It was something like a parent listening to their nagging child, ready to either give in or shove the kid out of the car door. Hux knew the look too well.

“I will fucking kill you,” Kylo threatened, but it held no fire. 

Hux opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could Kylo was jabbing the radio. Static came first, but after a little coaxing music flooded the speakers. It broke up every thirty second or so, skipped every now and again, and was nothing that Hux recognized.

“Now, shut up,” Kylo warned.

Hux listened to the lyrics, trying to make the time pass quicker. It took him a little while, but he finally realized Kylo was playing music from what sounded like the 1950s and 60s. It made sense, he supposed, with the leather jacket and jean combo. 

Hux smiled softly when he recognized some of the sweeter songs, trying to imagine Kylo singing along. It was difficult, of course, when the man beside him was acting like music ought to be outlawed during car rides.

“What?” Kylo demanded.

Hux looked up, not realizing just how big the grin on his face had been. Looking Kylo up and down, he wondered what kind of music he sang along to in the shower. Moreover, he tried to picture the booming voice belting out the softer melodies, and almost laughed aloud. 

“Nothing,” Hux shook his head, staring back out the window.

Kylo grumbled to himself, and out of the corner of his eye Hux could see him glance his way every few seconds. The music reminded him of what played at his father and step mother’s wedding anniversary a few years prior, when a bunch of elderly people tried their best to sway along the dancefloor. 

Hux tried to bite back his smile, thinking of Kylo Ren the big bad hitman slow dancing with an old woman. The easiest way he had found in passing the time so far was picturing his hired killer in everyday settings, and failing miserably. 

It felt like a Where’s Waldo puzzle, but one for very young children. Kylo Ren would stick out just anywhere normal he could be placed. Hux thought of him grocery shopping amongst soccer moms and wailing children and nearly laughed aloud.

“Alright,” Kylo roared, “Music privileges revoked,”

Hux spun around, gasping as Kylo jabbed at the volume button. All at once, the music cut out and they were left alone in silence. Kylo looked just as angry as before. 

“Why’d you do that?” Hux frowned.

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you giggle at my taste in music,” Kylo snapped.

Hux’s expression softened slightly at the realization that Kylo was simply embarrassed. He wondered briefly if he had ever played music for one of his clients before. Something in Hux wished that he was the only one. 

“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Hux assured him.

Kylo rolled his eyes, shaking his head quickly. He tapped along the steering wheel, hands jittery all of the sudden. Hux wondered if he was craving a cigarette, and hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with a man on nicotine withdrawal throughout the journey.

“I don’t fucking care if you were or weren’t,” Kylo rebuked.

Hux hummed softly, watching the trees roll by. Kylo continued his tapping, and Hux very quickly grew bored of the silence once again.

“Kinda seemed like you care,” Hux yawned.

Kylo took a deep breath shaking his head from his spot in the driver’s spot. Hux fiddled with his sweater, playing with a loose thread along the hem. Usually, he wouldn’t be so unrelenting, but Hux needed to find some means of keeping his mind occupied.

“I don’t,” Kylo spat bitterly.

“Then turn it back on,” Hux suggested.

Kylo did not answer, instead he simply ignored Hux’s childish behavior and kept driving. They had hours until the map was needed, and Hux was desperate to stop his mind from running on a loop. He couldn’t stop imagining the different ways his father might day, how it could go wrong, what could possibly happen.

Finally, Hux reached out and switched the volume on himself. Music came through the speakers, and Kylo looked like he would pull off to the side and kick Hux onto the highway.

“Do you enjoy being alive?” Kylo hissed.

Hux paused for a moment, mulling over the question. Of course, a part of him felt obligated to enjoy life, and live it the way he wanted to. That had never been particularly easy though. The more realistic answer was that his crippling chronic depression left him with little to no desire to keep going on a large sum of days.

“Not particularly,” Hux answered finally.

Kylo was quiet. The hand he held on the volume started to pull away before turning it down, like he felt personally guilty regarding Hux’s answer. Before he returned his hand to the wheel, however, he returned to snap the music off.

“Don’t touch my radio,” Kylo spoke gruffly.

Something about speaking to Kylo was liberating. Anything shared with the other man in their time together would never come back to him. They would never see each other again after Sunday, and Kylo would disappear into whatever sewer he crawled from.

Still, he knew he had to ration it carefully. As frightened as Kylo might have been by Phasma, he still had a temper. Kylo could snap at any moment, could kill Hux for a misstep in etiquette or one insult that hit just a little too hard. 

For another hour, Hux sat silently in the passenger side of the car, reading every possible part of the map before him. When that ran out, he counted the trees that whipped by to the best of his ability. 

After some time, Kylo reluctantly leaned forward to turn the music back on. Hux smiled to himself, glancing at the other man from the corner of his eye. After about a seventh of their trip down, he was finally starting to loosen up some.

It did not sound like the music Hux might have expected. Soft and sweet, the lyrics were too gentle for someone as angry as Kylo to like. It helped to quell the erratic beating of Hux’s heart, and calm the shaky nerves that he worked himself up into.

“I haven’t heard most of these before,” Hux said finally, “I like it,”

“I don’t care,” Kylo reminded him lazily.

“Do you care about anything?” Hux grumbled.

Kylo pushed some of the loose hair out of his face, seeming like he was holding in a scream. Hux wondered if he was typically so easy to set off. 

“I care about you shutting the fuck up,” Kylo sneered. 

“Do you always do these things in silence?” Hux asked.

Kylo gripped the wheel tighter, seemingly trying to figure out some way to make Hux stop talking. Hux just wanted the more casual Kylo back, the one that distracted him from the gravity of the situation. It was difficult to sit in the car for so long just thinking about how drastically his life would change.

“Hux,” Kylo barked, “Stop fucking talking. Do you think you’ll out maneuver a contract killer in a fucking car?”

Hux was quiet for a moment. He fiddled with his hair, tucking a loose strand back to where it was gelled properly. There was no way for this to be a casual trip, he knew that. Still, he was so on edge that he could not keep himself in check.

“You won’t kill me,” Hux mumbled, more to himself than to Kylo.

“Yeah?” Kylo laughed, “What would possibly make you think that?”

The music played gently in the background, poorly matching the mood of the car. The tension was so thick Hux thought it could be tangible, like he could reach out to touch Kylo and hold the anger. He wondered if he had been happier before gaining that gnarly scar.

“Because you’re afraid,” Hux stated simply.

“Afraid?” Kylo repeated, bursting into laughter.

Hux waited patiently, listening to Kylo howl hysterically beside him. The laugh made his heart skip, thankful to listen to something that wasn’t his own thoughts, and he felt the need to keep the conversation going however it might happen.

“Afraid of what?” Kylo asked, wiping the corner of his eye, “You?”

“Of course not,” Hux hummed.

Kylo snickered, shaking his head. It was much better to have even sparse conversation between them, especially now that Kylo was acting similarly to how he had been the night before. Hux clung to it, listening to every tilt of Kylo’s voice.

“You think I’m scared of Phasma?” Kylo seemed bored, like the conversation was dying out, “I’ve dealt with plenty of cops, your girlfriend isn’t the first,”

Hux opened his mouth to debate the implication that he and Phasma were romantically involved, but when he looked to Kylo he saw that was exactly what the other man wanted. 

There was something desirable about throwing Kylo Ren off. He acted as though he knew everything, like he had Hux figured out from the second he saw him. Hux wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that he was different from the way he might seem.

“Not Phasma,” Hux stated plainly, “Snoke,”

It was the closest Hux had ever seen a person come to full on stopping in the middle of the highway. Kylo whipped his head around, looking at Hux with wide eyes. Anger billowed from his expression, speechless as he gawked in Hux’s direction.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Kylo hissed, “Say his name,”

“Bit like Voldemort, then?” Hux asked casually.

Kylo did not laugh at his joke. He only maintained his strong grip on the steering wheel, swerving into the next lane just to have some control over the car. 

“You don’t know anything,” Kylo shouted, his skin quickly flushing red.

Hux flinched slightly, noticing the way that the other man sped up the car. Kylo’s breathing was more ragged than normal, raspy as he blinked rapidly and checked his mirrors. 

Hux glanced around them, searching out any potential police vehicles. The roads were still fairly empty, but Hux didn’t like that they suddenly drew attention to themselves. They were barely three hours into the drive, and yet Kylo was already losing his mind.

“You think you’re so funny, so smart,” Kylo continued to yell, “Why can’t you just shut the fuck up? Do you think this is supposed to be fun? A game? You’re fucking sick,” 

Hux swallowed thickly, feeling the guilt sit heavily in his chest. Suddenly, he regretted revving the other man up. Before, he assumed it was just someone Kylo didn’t want to see again. Now, he understood there was something deeper to Kylo’s aversion to the man.

Kylo laughed bitterly, switching lanes once more. He sped up around a minivan, and as they passed Hux could make out three kids bickering in the back of the car. A man sat in the front seat, most likely the father, laughing at their silly arguments. 

“Someone is going to die. Your father is going to die,” Kylo screamed, “We are driving to kill the man that gave you life, and you want to sing along to the radio?”

“Stop fucking reminding me,” Hux shouted back, slamming his hands on the dashboard.

The two sat silently for a moment, Kylo’s ragged breathing loud above the quiet music still coming from the radio. Hux clenched his fists, feeling his blunt fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. There was nothing more he could ask for but a simple distraction, nothing he needed more than just an hour without dwelling on his actions.

“I can’t sit here in silence for twelve more hours and play over every shitty memory of him I have that I’m using to justify this,” Hux breathed.

Kylo looked at him, his eyes not quite as angry anymore. The car slowed down to the previous speed, and the car beeped to resume cruise control. Kylo’s labored breathing evened out, barely audible over the tired spinning along the pavement. 

“Can’t we just talk about the weather or something,” Hux sniffed, voice leveled to its typical monotone.

“The weather,” Kylo let out a sharp chuckle.

It sent chills through Hux’s body. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling the itch spread across his body. Anxiety showed itself in various ways for the man, but the need to scratch off the entire top layer of his skin for hours on end definitely seemed like the worst punishment for his current situation.

“Nevermind,” Hux shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

He rested his head on the window, not minding the bumps that made his temple ache. Instead, he stared at the trees and tried not to think about his father. He failed, as usual, and Brendol Hux’s sinister smile infiltrated every chance it got.

“I don’t like the sun,” Kylo’s voice broke Hux’s thoughts.

Hux sat up slightly, opening his stinging eyes to look at the other man. He kept his gaze on the road, tapping his fingers nervously against the steering wheel. Hux bit the inside of his cheek, silently praying that it wasn’t some cruel joke.

“Me neither,” Hux admitted, “It’s just… too much,”

Kylo chuckled, nodding in agreement. By then, the sun had come out from behind the morning fog. It felt muted, gentle light as opposed to the blinding shine of a cloudless sky. 

“It’s ironic,” Kylo noted, “You look like the sun,”

Hux crinkled his nose, whipping over to shoot Kylo a warning look. He expected a suggestive smirk to meet him, but Kylo still did not glance in his direction. Something warm settled in his stomach, and Hux reached up to self consciously touch his hair.

“It’s not just the red,” Kylo continued, voice softer.

“No?” Hux squirmed in his seat, “What then? Just a general lack of likeableness?” 

Kylo’s laugh rang out like a bell, and when he shook his head the curly pieces of his hair bounced. Hux blinked dreamily, captivated by the way his hair twisted and turned. His hand twitched, desperate to run his fingers through it.

“If you were the sun, I wouldn’t mind it so much,” Kylo shrugged.

Hux ran the words through his head, and decided after much debate that Kylo Ren was fucking with him. Still, he stared at the other man with soft eyes that desired a thousand words more, even if they were meant to toy with him.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned…” Hux’s voice trailed off slightly, “I’m…” 

Kylo waved him off, shaking his head quickly. Hux hated himself for being incapable of just getting an apology out of his mouth, of being unable to just take responsibility for his actions. 

“Don’t dwell on it,” Kylo assured him.

“Yeah,” Hux laughed weakly, “Dwelling definitely isn’t my specialty,”

Kylo snickered, shaking his head. He looked at Hux, and Hux stared back for a moment. They drove for a long time, discussing the best kind of weather and what it reminded them of. For Hux, the rain was an excuse to wear a hat and hide his bright red hair.

“I don’t like sticking out,” he defended himself.

Kylo laughed loudly, and Hux felt his cheeks head up. He ducked his head down, reaching for his hair again. Kylo smacked his hand away, and Hux frowned. They glanced at each other, one after the other, but never at the same time.

“I don’t think a simple hat could hide you,” Kylo murmured, voice tentative, “I don’t think anything could keep you from sticking out in a crowd,”

Hux rolled his eyes, looking away. He did not want Kylo to see the steady blush spreading across his face, lighting him up like a Christmas tree. 

“Whatever,” Hux grumbled.

Kylo reached across the console to flick Hux’s leg, and he felt the touch ricochet across the entirety of his body. It was pathetic that every touch affected him so deeply, spreading from the little spot directly to the center of his chest.

“Oh, don’t pout, sunshine,” Kylo beamed, and Hux could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

Hux did not play into it, only rolled his eyes and leaned back in the seat. It felt strange to finally be day, to be here with Kylo Ren when the sun was shining above them. 

He looked as though he didn’t belong in the daylight, like he should only come out when the moon was high in the sky and the street lights flickered. Kylo was dark like the night sky, and pale like the moon that shone within it. 

Kylo’s eyes twinkled like starlight when he looked at Hux, filled with mischief and spark. Hux found himself getting lost in them, desperate for more when they flickered over to meet Hux’s every once in a while, crinkled at the corners when he laughed. 

“Okay, moonlight,” Hux shot back.

Kylo shook his head, booing the weak attempt. Hux never called anyone by pet names, except for his cat, and even she was only called by a nickname of her given name, Millicent. Hux chewed on his lip, very obviously out of his comfort zone. 

Neither spoke for a moment, but the silence did not feel as heavy as before. Hux thought about the way Kylo kept tilting his head ever so slightly to catch quick looks of him, and wondered what he looked like in the other man’s eyes. 

“Do you think I look like the moon?” Kylo asked quietly, voice tinged with something deeper.

Hux turned to him, eyes ghosting across the pale skin. The smattering of freckles that littered his face resembled the craters of the moon, spots that Hux wished to connect with his fingers. Kylo beamed, sticking out as the brightest point of the darkness that currently engulfed Hux.

“I suppose,” Hux settled on finally.

Kylo frowned slightly, as if he was itching for something greater, something deeper from Hux. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, but he could not bring himself to utter them. Now was not the time to develop a hopeless infatuation with the man set out to kill his father. 

“Is this all we’ll do?” Kylo asked, “Just talk about the weather?”

Hux shrugged, feeling infinitely better than he had for the rest of the car ride. No longer did he fixate on the memories of his father, taking up every piece of his mind. Instead, he could focus on the beautiful boy beside him, and secretly fantasize that they were traveling for a weekend away together, instead of the harsh reality behind the situation.

“Tell me what you want,” Hux spoke earnestly, desperate to hear the gravel of Kylo’s voice continue to fill the car.

Kylo paused for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. The sunlight hit his cheeks, illuminating the scar that ran along the side of his face. Hux’s breath caught in his throat, jaw going slack as his eyes followed it from its start to where it disappeared.

Hux could not stop imagining gently pulling the jacket from Kylo’s shoulders, pressing his lips to the man’s scarred neck as he helped him out of his shirt. He desired nothing more than to see where it ended, to press his fingers to the rigid skin and send shivers throughout the his body.

“Why do you want your father dead?” Kylo’s voice shattered his thoughts.

Hux’s breath hitched, the question catching him completely off guard. He yanked his eyes away, staring out the window. Of course, he thought, it would have to come back to this. They had their hour of joking around, of discussing something as trivial as the weather. 

“If it’s too much-” Kylo started, and Hux waved him off.

“No,” he murmured, “No, you have the right to ask,”

“Do I?” Kylo returned, voice laced with surprise. 

Hux watched the darker man drive for a few minutes, thinking over the reasons he had behind his decision. There was nothing he would say that Kylo had not heard a thousand times before, he knew that. All this time of wanting to be different was just an excuse.

Hux wanted to be in the right for ordering the hit, but he understood the skewing of his moral compass. Most people cut their parents off if things got to be too difficult, not hired some random man to kill them. 

“I lived my entire life for him,” Hux admitted, “I did everything for him. Told myself I would wait until he died until I… until I had enough from his inheritance to go back to school, to run away and never look back,”

Kylo looked at him curiously, but remained silent. Hux tried to find the words, tried to find the feelings as to why he could not handle another moment of his father even living thousands of miles away. He tried to articulate what he never had been able to before, and found the words stuck in his throat. 

“I don’t know why he kept me, if he didn’t want me,” Hux continued, “He reminded me every so often that he gave my mother money for the abortion, that he cornered her day in night in our kitchen to see if she had gone through with it,”

Hux felt his face turn redder with every word, reliving the memories. His father hated him, he reminded him every time they spoke. And yet, he kept him around to kick around like a dog. Hux had often noted as a child that the family dog was treated better. 

“Christ, who-what child envies a dog?” Hux mumbled to himself, lost between his own thoughts versus what he managed to choke out.

“He fired her as soon as he started showing, that’s what my step-mother told me, fired her and sent her away,” Hux carded his fingers through his hair, “I don’t know how he got me. They never told me I… I don’t know why he didn’t give me away, why she didn’t keep me, why they didn’t just drown me in the tub,”

Hux let out a shaky breath, the anger mixing with the deep despair. The road rolled beneath their feet, carrying them closer and closer to the man that had beaten and abused him his entire life. 

“I can’t remember a time when he didn’t hurt me, when he didn’t berate me, kick me, bruise every inch of my skin, I,” Hux let out a shuddering breath, “I lived my whole life for a man who scarred me inside and out, and I’ll get nothing for it,”

The rage took over suddenly, and Hux punched the glove box, hands slamming against the dashboard. He buried his face in his hands, tears welling in his eyes. Everything came crashing around him, he felt like he was drowning once again.

“He’ll find me if I don’t, I can’t- I’ve tried to run away and he finds me,” Hux mumbled, voice muffled by his hands, “I’m an adult, I’m a man, and he has me tied to the end of a string, living exactly as he wants because I’m just some sniveling fucking bastard child,”

The end came out in a scream, impossible to hold back longer. At the drop of the adrenaline, Hux felt the rush of shame and embarrassment. Kylo still did not speak, and he wondered if the rest of the journey would be made in the same silence it began with. 

A soft touch ghosted on the top of Hux’s back. After a second, the pressure came stronger, and he could feel each individual finger. Kylo rubbed his back in circles, and Hux could not remember the last time he had longed so deeply for touch.

Hux shuddered, and Kylo yanked his arm back.

“Please,” Hux gasped, “Stay,”

Each finger settled back into place, tracing every ridge of Hux’s spine from top to bottom. He remained bent over, hands cradling his cheeks. More than anything, he wanted to be held. 

More than anything, he knew he could not be.

Kylo rubbed circles up and down his back, and after a while Hux noticed it was in time with the music. He relaxed into it, letting his shoulders drop as he listened to the crooning. Any other day, he would be barking orders at his employees in the office.

Here, with Kylo, he realized felt more natural than anything he forced himself to do over the years. 

“I understand,” Kylo offered gently.

Hux breathed deeply, turning his head to look at the other man. Every few seconds his eyes flickered from the road to rest on Hux, checking up on him. They sat, Hux unabashedly watching the other man while he continued to doodle on his back, until the tape ran out.

The music stopped, and Hux went back to listening to the low rumble of the car. Every so often, they hit a divet in the road and Kylo’s fingers would dig in deeper, holding Hux in place. It warmed the center of his chest.

“I killed my dad,” Kylo’s voice rang out suddenly, “Shot him straight through the gut,”

Hux jerked up slightly, looking at Kylo with curiosity. The other man pulled his arm back slightly, fully ready for Hux to draw himself away by the looks of it. After a moment of Hux remaining still, Kylo settled back in.

“Did you hate him?” Hux inquired, slightly hesitant.

Kylo let out a curt chuckle, and his eyes held some of the fury of the first portion of the ride. More, however, was an overwhelming amount of sadness and confusion that plagued his face. Hux opened his mouth to speak, but closed it just as quickly. 

“No,” Kylo answered simply.

Kylo shut up after that, hand moving back to the wheel. His jaw clenched, like he wanted to spill every deep dark secret but his body would not physically let him do so. Hux stared at the open road, counting the cars whizzing past them.

Tentatively, he reached his own arm over to Kylo’s side of the car. He placed his fingers delicately on Kylo’s nearest shoulder, pressing down slightly. Hux kept his eyes straight, not so much as sneaking a glance of the other man from the corner of his eye.

After a moment, Hux returned his hand to his lap. Neither spoke about the interaction.

“There’s more tapes in the glove compartment,” Kylo grunted.

Hux took it as a token of appreciation. He rifled through the tapes, bickering with Kylo over what the best road trip music of all time had to be, and complaining about the niche genre the other man had to offer in his vehicle. 

From the corner of his eye, Hux caught Kylo smiling at him. He pretended it did not make his heart threaten to leap from his chest, and his cheeks flush the familiar red that they had done so many times before. Kylo returned his gaze to the speedometer without a second thought.

Hux could not get that smile out of his head, desperate for its return. 

It became apparent, after another few hours of arguing and joking, that Hux enjoyed the company of Kylo Ren. Perhaps, it was the ability for him to say almost anything with no consequence, as they would never see each other after that weekend.

But, Hux thought as he listened to Kylo belt out his favorite Frank Sinatra song, it felt like something more. Perhaps, it was the fact that Kylo killed people for a living, and it made Hux feel just a little more secure in his own lack of morality. 

But when Kylo laughed, it became too easy to forget just what they were doing in the car together. Kylo had a way of turning Hux’s mind to mush, forcing him to focus solely on the way those plump lips moved when he spoke.

Hux lost himself in the random curls hidden within Kylo’s mane, and he desired so deeply to run his fingers through the dark pieces and pick out every pretty piece, to bury his face in them and just breathe. Hux wondered if his thoughts had ever been creepier. 

The realization came suddenly, as he watched Kylo hum along to the radio: Hux wanted to kiss him. The desire bubbled in his stomach, threatening to spill over and force Hux to lean across the console and press his lips to the indent of the other man’s scar.

It terrified him, took over his thoughts, made his head spin with the sickening feeling of childish infatuation. 

“Are we going to stop at any point?” Hux blurted out, feeling overwhelmed with his own thoughts.

Kylo turned to him, quirking an eyebrow. If Hux thought he could play off his anxieties to a hitman, he understood now he was sadly mistaken. Racking his brain, Hux tried to figure out an excuse justifiable in getting to be alone for just three seconds to talk some sense into himself, to shake off the silly crush before it took hold.

“I’m hungry,” Hux decided on finally. 

Kylo sighed, checking the clock on the dashboard. They made steady pace, and seemed on track to arrive relatively early in the night, but something in him seemed wary of stopping. Hux’s stomach grumbled, and he ducked his head down, secretly thankful for the perfect timing.

“Did you bring any snacks?” he asked weakly.

“What,” Kylo snickered, “You didn’t pack three square meals for your road trip with a hitman?”

“In my defense, I thought we were flying,” Hux pointed out.

Kylo shrugged, glancing at the signs along the road. Every few miles they offered shitty lodging or food, and they had traveled far enough that some of the places were chains that Hux had only ever heard about, never actually seen.

They traveled for some time, passing different exits with Kylo scrunching his nose and examining the options. Twice, they pulled off of the highway to check restaurants out, and Kylo only scanned the parking lots briefly before they got back on the road.

“What are you looking for?” Hux asked finally.

Kylo squinted, reading the next board. He smiled slightly, and Hux noticed the way his tongue popped between his teeth when he concentrated on something. 

It made his heart flutter, noticing the little things about the other man. When trapped in a car with the same scene playing outside for hours, it was not difficult to pick up on the little mannerisms. 

“Gotta be discreet, but not small enough that we might be recognized. People we could blend in with, so we’ll have to drop in within the next hour before the typical lunch rush wears off,” Kylo explained absentmindedly.

Hux kept track of the qualifiers, trying to picture a restaurant he deemed perfect in those standards. Kylo would stick out anywhere, he knew that for certain. A tall, dark, handsome man with a giant scar running down the side of his face? 

Hux would pick him out from any crowd.

Kylo grinned when they pulled into the third restaurant, looking around with glee. It looked almost at capacity, but not to the point where they would have to wait for a table. The waitresses could be seen running from one side of the restaurant to the other, clearly busy.

“The last necessity,” Kylo shifted the lever to park, “Is a killer chocolate milk,” 

Kylo laughed at his own joke. Hux felt his head spin at the sudden desire he felt to lean across the console and shove his tongue down the other man’s throat. 

Thankfully, he refrained from doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments i truly, truly appreciate them!!!
> 
> if you wanna talk hml (@floralshark on twitter/@armisticehux on tumblr)

**Author's Note:**

> i had nearly a full chapter of a soft cushy fic written then decided today to scrap it and work on this instead. the beginning is always the worst, so i'm excited to get the rest of this pumped out!!!!


End file.
